


Too Dark To See

by trashkingtater



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brainwashing, Canon Compliant, Clint Barton as Captain America, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, M/M, Misunderstandings, Ronin Bucky Barnes, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashkingtater/pseuds/trashkingtater
Summary: After the death of Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes is convinced that no one in the world should replace Steve as Captain America. He'll do whatever it takes to preserve the one thing Steve left behind: his legacy. He's willing to kill anyone who gets in his way.Clint Barton is a man without a place in the world. He's lost everything over the years, his wife, his home, even his life at several points. The world seems colder now, especially without Steve in it. All he wants to do is to do right by his old mentor. He's not sure if he's the man for the job, but if Stark thinks he is then he's at least going to try.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	1. Furthest From Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to my very good friend, [Winterhawk616](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterhawk616/), for betaing this for me. This fic would have never happened without her total support. She's been cheering me on from the get-go and put up with my incessant chattering about it, and deserves all the recognition for that. 
> 
> I wanna be upfront that there's a lot of heavy tws in this first chapter because canon 616 decided Bucky had to suffer a bunch. I kind of hate it, honestly, but it all ties in on highlighting Steve's importance to Bucky so I decided to keep it. Don't worry, most of the story does not stick to this model. For those who are squeamish to Bucky going through it, feel free to skip this chapter and read a summary of it [[here](https://trashkingtater.tumblr.com/private/625846359807967232/tumblr_CY3R43ECudWGoIuXu)]. Starting with chapter two, everything should lighten up.

Infiltrating a museum should not be this easy, Bucky thinks to himself as he nonchalantly angles his body out of sight from another guard. It’s broad daylight outside, with very few people milling around him but he’s still taking precautions. Lax security doesn’t mean Stark won’t be watching, and the last thing he needs is to get caught.

On a regular day, being found by SHIELD would be ill advised for someone with his history. Yet, with the Superhuman Registration Act being passed recently, it would be much, much worse. They would give away his identity to the government and at best, he would be locked away or executed; never being allowed to bring his tormentors to justice. At worst, he would be recommissioned to work for Director Stark, which was something he couldn’t even fathom after the man’s betrayal.

He hears a child scream from across the open space, reverberating in the high ceilings, and for a second he’s back in that crowd. His eyes search for clues as everyone scrambles away from the gunfire. Steve’s body is lying on the stairs, moments from death as people scatter around him.

Bucky pulls himself back to reality, grounding himself through the texture of a nearby wall. He focuses on the differences of the people around him. There’s an older woman, crying with a hand touching one of the plaques on the wall. The child who screamed is sitting on his father's shoulders, bouncing back and forth. He seems so excited to see what’s left of Steve’s legacy.

Bucky wishes he could have gone to his friend at that moment. He could have used his arm to get Steve out of the power drainers, kept him alive long enough for the medics to arrive. Even if he’d been caught by Stark in the process, at least Steve would still be here.

Watching his closest friend and mentor die isn’t an experience he particularly wants to ever remember. However, he feels equally guilty pushing the memory away. Like he’s disrespecting Steve every time he tries to not think about it. Now, it’s the only thing he does think about, remembering his closest friend be paraded about and then crumpling before a crowd of onlookers. All because Stark wanted to rub his victory in the faces of anyone who opposed him.

The constant red white and blue memorabilia in his exhibit aren’t helping him any, but he knew coming in here that things would be like this. It’s not easy, but if it’s to preserve Steve’s memory, Bucky will do whatever it is he has to do to make sure the man is properly respected.

He peruses the displays a bit, sees the photos taken of the Invaders during the war and smiles softly to himself. Those had been good times, despite the tension. He misses them dearly. He wishes things could have been different, that Toro and Jim hadn’t died, but things are the way that they are. He has seen Namor once since he’s been back, and nothing with that man is ever easy. It’d still been comforting to see him, regardless.

He eventually gets to the shield display without arousing suspicion. He already knows, but he needs the confirmation. The thin, breakable glass with no real alarms attached is typical for museum artifacts, but not for something as important as Steve’s shield. That combined with the lack of real security around it tells Bucky one thing: this isn’t the real thing. It’s a damn near perfect replica, he figures upon closer inspection, because even he can’t tell the difference just by looking at it.

He doesn’t have to think hard about the reasons Tony Stark would keep the original, and he doesn’t like the options he finds there. Either the original shield has been buried with Steve, or that Stark is planning on appointing a new Captain that will fight for SHIELD instead. The first option is unlikely, because Stark just doesn’t work that way. The second, though, makes Bucky know he has to intervene. Stark has absolutely no right to do something like that when he’s directly responsible for putting Steve in danger.

Something the world is yet to realize is that not just anyone is worthy to replace Steve Rogers. Much less someone willing to compromise basic morals by fighting for something like Tony’s registration. The more he thinks about how underhanded it is, the more determined he gets. He slowly makes his way back out of the museum, mostly unseen, and with a new mission to stop, if not kill Tony Stark.

* * *

Crouching down on the roof, Bucky watches traffic and waits for his trap to set. Hacking into Nick Fury’s Life Model Decoy to make Stark paranoid of his own security systems was much easier than he’d been anticipating. Now all he has to do is lie in wait outside of the compound, watching for Stark to show his hand.

With time, the garage eventually opens. He counts one, two, three, four vans going out, each heading in different directions. He sits and waits, though, because this is Stark. He doesn’t play by the normal rules. It’s a gamble, but Bucky’s betting on him to go above and beyond per usual. A few minutes later, a single car with tinted windows leaves the compound and Bucky knows instantly that’s his cue.

The car itself looks nondescript, but as it rolls down the street, the wheels slowly start to fold up with the engines on them revving. He curses lightly to himself. The car slows down as it rises up, and he has to push himself to his limit in order to reach the underbelly of the car in time. He reaches up with the metal arm and tears multiple pieces of it out in one go.

He ducks and covers to the other side of the street as the car impacts with the ground, wondering who it is that Tony trusted for this. Transporting the shield under these circumstances wouldn't be left to just anyone. When the car finally hits the ground and the engines die, Bucky doesn’t wait to find out. He quickly crosses the street, calculating his best line of attack. Going for a frontal assault, he rips open the door before he notices movement, narrowly dodging a foot aimed straight at his throat. When his eyes finally connect to the face of the body attacking him, he freezes.

“Natalia?” He half mumbles, taking a few steps back. She steps out of the wreckage with a determined look on her face; the shield strapped to her back. She hardly looks like a woman who’d just been caught in a car wreck.

“You can walk away from this now, James, I don’t want to hurt you.” She doesn’t look like she’s about to fight him, but he knows better. Widows are deadliest when you least expect it.

“Funny, you should say that.” He says, bringing his arms back up to an offensive position before taking a swing at her. The change in her is instant, from unassuming to absolutely lethal. She brings up an arm to block him, before twisting around with a foot swinging back towards his head again.

He barely dodges it, before she’s using the movement to swing herself over top of him. As she arcs back towards the ground, Bucky uses her own momentum against her as he swings his arm into her midsection. The clang of the shield indents the ground with the force of impact. It hardly slows her down though, as she grabs his arm and throws him over her before jumping back onto her feet. Bucky catches himself on one hand before flipping back over to face her.

“Steve wouldn’t want this.” She tells him, her hair scattered already from the fight and it only serves to anger him more.

“You and Stark get no say in what Steve would have wanted.” Bucky grits out. Natasha doesn’t let it phase her, though, as she rips the shield off of her back. She doesn’t throw it, but she does advance and swing it down at him with full force. He blocks with his left hand and the screeching sound of metal meeting metal rings in his ears.

He knows before he even feels that it’s caused damage in the arm. Natasha is absurdly strong; he trained her after all. The arm is tough, yes, but everything gives under the right kind of pressure. He jumps back to assess the damage, before realizing he’s only able to move parts of his hand. He curses to himself, knowing he’d need both arms to truly go toe to toe with her.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” She offers to him but Bucky knows better.

“Unfortunately, I think it does.” He says to her, before disappearing down an alleyway. He’ll find another way to get the Shield later, it’s only Stark after all. Fixing his arm takes priority.

* * *

He’s just finished the last bits of the rewiring, listening to the news in the background when the new segment drops. “Reports have just been confirmed that the man who killed Captain America escaped SHIELD custody today,” he hears from the television. He turns immediately to see Crossbones’ mugshot plastered on the screen.

“Damn it, Stark,” He mutters, closing up the outer panel. He can’t do anything about the dented metal at the moment, but at least all the connections are up and working again. He changes into his gear and heads out the door quickly, determined to put things to an end.

He’d been on a mission recently, where AIM had been investigating SHIELD operations. It wasn’t linked to the Red Skull directly, but it _had_ been linked to his daughter, Sin. She must have been the one who wanted Crossbones to go free. Now he’ll have to pick up the slack that Stark was too overconfident to take care of.

Now Crossbones and Sin are both gone in the wind, he only really has one lead left. He remembers the Kronas building from an earlier fight in London. Red Skull had attacked Lukin there, determined to take out a rival. He thinks that at best, that Lukin will have some answers for him. At worst, he’s colluding with the Red Skull. Either way, he’ll find some answers.

It’s not hard for him to maneuver through the city’s rooftops to get to the correct place. He pirouettes off the top of the building, falling a short distance before grabbing one of the flags that’s jutting out the side. The momentum from his fall carries him towards the window and through the glass of the window above the penthouse suite. His feet collide with the guard’s head, instantly knocking him out. Bucky rolls himself through the rest of his fall, catching himself back on his feet and dusting the glass off.

He’s the definition of stealth as he maneuvers his way through the building. It’s the time of night where there’s only a few patrols, but Bucky still doesn’t want to alert Lukin’s henchmen to his presence. Sticking to the shadows, he works his way down the stairs, intently focused on finding answers.

The suite itself is dark. He assumes this means no one is home at the moment, but doesn’t shift to start perusing for more information. Tonight he wants a confrontation. He’s done playing games. Luckily he doesn’t have to wait long for Lukin to make an appearance. He’s distracted, tapping at his phone, and an easy target. Bucky sees red, as he slams Lukin against the wall; his phone clatters noisily to the ground.

“Lukin,” Bucky nearly spits out, tangling his hand deeper into the man’s clothes in attempts to not just choke the life out of him.

“Winter Soldier, how nice to see you.” Lukin replies, but something’s wrong. He’s too calm, looking smug rather than alarmed.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” Bucky says, fishing for information. It’s a distraction tactic for himself, too, giving him time to breathe rather than make rash decisions. He knows he’s too close to this, but if no one else will step up then he’ll make sure it gets done.

“Hmm, no. I think you’re losing your touch, seeing as I’m still breathing.” Lukin replies, and while Bucky knows he’s just baiting him it still hits on something uncomfortable.

“Hardly. I’m here for information on the Red Skull’s daughter. A sleazy mass-murderer like you should know where she is.” Bucky says, tightening his hold. He uses both hands to restrain Lukin, silently contemplating breaking one of his arms in order to force him to talk. Then, the door opens behind him, and Bucky quickly turns to use Lukin as a shield. He’s not fast enough though, as he feels the brunt end of a pistol aimed against his head. Sin is standing behind him, looking victorious with Crossbones by her side.

“I seem to recall mentioning how you’re losing your touch.” Lukin says smugly. Bucky releases Lukin, fighting the urge to break his arm on principle. Lukin begins monologuing, but Bucky for the most part tunes it out. He already knows where his targets are, now it’s just a matter of subduing them.

A few minutes through talking, Lukin pulls out a mask, and covers his face with the familiar sight that makes Bucky’s stomach drop. The Red Skull stands before him, now and Bucky’s only starting to understand just what it is he stepped in. They’re sharing a body, somehow, a consciousness of sorts. Lukin and Red Skull, together.

He deserves this, he thinks, to fall here and now for acting so rashly. However, even in the most dire of circumstances he’s been hardwired since a child to never give up, never stop fighting. The Red Skull goes on to say something else, before Bucky dodges out of Crossbones path, immediately aiming for Red Skull.

He gets intercepted by Sin, who Bucky shuts down with a swift kick to the temple. Crossbones screams as she falls. Red Skull is backed against the window, but Bucky has something else to take care of first. He twists around, narrowly dodging a fist coming up behind him. Smart of him, Bucky thinks to himself, to try to fight with fists rather than shoot in the direction of his direct superior.

Bucky first knocks Crossbones legs out from under him, before grabbing him by the throat as he falls. “You shot my friend.” Bucky says, voice cold. The memory flashes by him, Steve’s lifeless body lying cold on the ground.

“I don’t have many friends.” Bucky growls, fingers tightening around the other’s windpipe. He takes satisfaction watching Crossbones struggle for air, clawing at his throat. He’s desperate for oxygen, the next breath that will never come. He can see Crossbones’ neck turning colors before him, and if getting revenge for Steve makes him even more of a murderer, then at least he got to choose it this time.

“Enough.” Red Skull says from across the room. He sounds as calm as Lukin did earlier, like Bucky won’t destroy him at the very next opportunity. “I’ve let you have your fun. If you kill him, you’ll never discover who really killed Rogers.”

“You don’t get to say his name,” Bucky spits, tossing Crossbones to the ground. He hears the other man gasping for breath, but ignores him completely. He can deal with Crossbones later, but he won’t stand for Red Skull disrespecting Steve.

“Try as you might, it’s all quite futile.” Red Skull says and before Bucky can get to him,Red Skull says one last word: “Sputnik.”

He feels like he’s falling into the void. His body doesn’t respond to anything he tries. He clings uselessly to consciousness, feeling his eyes roll back into his head as he desperately tries to fight. In the end, he loses. The last thing he knows is the look of victory on the Red Skull’s face.

* * *

Bucky looks to his left, seeing the scene of war-torn Germany. Houses are crumbling around him, the sky is bleak and fading out the colors of the surrounding scenery. Looking to his right, he sees Steve. Despite the dreary world that surrounds them, he still stands out in the red, white and blue. He’s a symbol of hope, a symbol for peace, and a symbol to never give up.

Steve had seen the best in Bucky and deemed him worthy, despite all his flaws. Bucky sees courage when he looks at Steve, the same kind of courage his father had before he died. Over the years, through all the missions and fights, Steve felt more like his brother than anything. Whatever he is, Steve is family. No matter what it takes, Bucky knows he will fight for this man forever.

The troops march on as Bucky watches, waiting for Steve’s signal to join them. Hope swirls in Bucky’s chest; each man here is dedicated to the cause, same as him. Although some of them might never make it back, not a single one of them will be forgotten.

“Hail Hydra!!!” He hears from behind him, and he quickly turns because that’s the wrong voice that it’s coming from. It’s Steve saying that, and he knows deep in his core that this isn’t right. Steve’s not like that, would never say that because Steve stands for what is good and just in the world.

Bucky turns to Steve in horror as he sees Steve open firing on US soldiers. “Steve, no! Those are our guys!” He shouts, running towards him and pulling at the gun. Steve then turns to him, eyes twisted and fires on Bucky and all he can think about is the pain-

When the pain stops, he opens his eyes again. He’s in a different place now, trapped, arms and legs held down by layers upon layers of titanium. Dr. Faustus is there, a villain who works for Lukin. He works primarily in brainwashing, and Bucky has to hold back the anger he feels at being forced into this once more. Faustus is stroking his beard and looking pensive. “I have to admit, I thought it would be easier to break you a second time. You provide quite the challenge, Winter Soldier.”

“It’s not going to work. I will never stop fighting.” Bucky tells him, even though he knows it's not the truth. He can only hold out for so long before the programming will be successful. 

The Doctor harrumphs, before starting up the sequence again. They run through the trial two more times, each another instance of them trying to twist Steve’s memory against him. He feels sick, coated with sweat, but he’s nowhere near ready to give up. The next time he feels himself slipping under, he comes to a decision.

He’s hanging onto the remote plane again, outside of Zemo’s fortress. The crash that led to the end of it all. Steve’s yelling at him to diffuse the plane, that Bucky’s the only one of the two of them that matters and it’s breaking Bucky’s heart all over again. He watches as Steve jumps from the plane, knowing his body won’t be found again for years.

He hides the part of himself that loves Steve, seeing him as the only family he has left. He keeps it hidden deep beneath the surface, and plays into the emotions that he knows are demanded of him by the sequence. He feels anger for being turned into a Hydra weapon. There’s so much resentment being fed into him, memories flashing of how Steve escaped and Bucky was left to be turned against the people he fought for. He feels how it was a fate worse than death waking up to learn of all the people he’s been made to kill.

He was turned into Hydra’s greatest weapon, and it was all because of Rogers. He was never really loved, never really valued until he came to Hydra, and it is with them he belongs. It is them who truly accepts him for what he is: a murderer.

When he wakes, he’s left with a feeling of peace. He sees a strange man before him and asks, “What am I doing in restraints?”

“Do you know who I am?” The man asks, and the Soldier analyzes him further.

It takes him a second, but he says, “You’re Dr. Faustus. You work for my boss.” Something about it isn’t right, though. Something in him is telling him not to trust this man.

“Are you under my command, Winter Soldier?” Faustus asks while eyeing him intently.

“I follow orders, and you’re higher up the chain.” He replies, while digging inside of himself to find what it is that is wrong. Something’s missing, something important and he needs to find out what it is.

Faustus raises an eyebrow, but that must be good enough for him because he works on unlocking the restraints. “You’re free to report for duty, but under one condition. I am not an overconfident man, you see.”

“Get to the point.” The Soldier says, unwilling to waste his time even for a superior.

“If you would follow my orders the same as you would for General Lukin, I’d like you to pick up this gun and kill your nurse.” Faustus says, holding out a gun to him.

“What did you just say?” The Soldier asks, suddenly unsure.

“You heard me, Winter Soldier. You’re familiar with Agent 13, no?” The Solider takes a look at the woman who’s been off to the side, completely unnoticeable in the scheme of things. She’s a small, blond woman but the Soldier has seen Widows smaller, deadlier than her. There’s something about her face, he thinks as he closes his eyes, willing himself to remember. It comes to him, then. Agent 13, also known as Sharon Carter is Steve Roger’s girl. A piece of him breaks, shatters and all of his memories come pouring back one by one. Seemingly unaware, Dr. Faustus continues, “I’d like you to blow her brains out for me.”

When he opens his eyes again, Bucky knows who he is. He takes the gun out of Faustus’ open hand, and aims it directly for Sharon’s head, praying she forgives him for the act. “Please, no” She says, tears in her eyes. “Please, Bucky, you don’t want to do this,” He cocks the gun back in response, before fluidly switching over to aim it at Faustus’ head. Bucky pulls the trigger the second the shot is in alignment, but his eyes narrow as nothing happens before him.

“Figures,” Bucky mutters, preparing to toss the gun. Before it fully leaves his hands, though, an electric shock passes through him from it and he drops to the ground.

“You could have at least kept up appearances,” Faustus taunts him, waving the discarded gun in Bucky’s face. “If you were so certain that is.”

“Ain’t gonna waste a shot at you,” Bucky grits out, fighting to at least make it back on his knees. Before he can make it that far, there’s a boot landing on his head and taking him out of the game completely. Whatever Faustus replies with, Bucky doesn’t know.

* * *

This time, Bucky wakes in a cell. His arms are bound in some weird, adamantium material. It’s too strong for him to break out of, but at least this time his legs are free. He takes a minute to breathe. Calm down, figure out an escape route. There’s no windows, no gaps in the walls, and kicking the wall proves it’s a couple feet thick. He stops, thinks.

Fuck it all, he can’t believe they got Sharon. She’d never willingly agree to any of this, he knows that deep down. He trusts her almost as much as he trusts Steve. Chances are, whatever brainwashing program they’ve cooked up they’ve been using on her. He promises to himself that he’s going to get her out of this, just as soon as he’s got these bindings off.

He kneels back on the ground, trying to focus. One long inhale in, one long exhale out. After a few minutes of that, an alarm rings out loud enough for him to hear it in his cell and he knows that this? This might be his lucky break.

Bucky jumps to his feet, and braces for a few seconds, waiting for the door to open. As soon as it does, he’s in motion, knocking one of the two guards they sent after him over. He dodges bullets quickly from the other, while moving all the while to get within range. As soon as he’s close enough, he headbutts the second guard in the face and watches as his eyes roll back. As he falls to the ground, Bucky leaves him to kick the first guard straight in the head, effectively knocking him out as well.

He runs down the hallway, watching his back for more guards. As he gets closer to a cross section, he sees the rest of the guards heading towards the left corridor. He guesses that the way they’re going is to whatever is causing the alarm to go off. He hopes to god Sharon is the other way, as he takes a right.

A few minutes of running later, he finds her sitting alone in the middle of the corridor. She’s sobbing, talking to herself on the floor and Bucky slows to a jog. As he gets closer he can hear bits of what she’s saying, “Please, stop, stop, please,” she cries and Bucky knows that they had her at one point, too.

“Sharon. Sharon, look at me,” he says to her, only a foot away. She looks up and there’s tears still coming from her eyes but she looks to be cognizant. “Sharon, it’s going to be okay.” More tears come from her eyes as she just stares at him, so he continues. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

“Oh, god,” is all she replies with, and Bucky’s heart breaks for her but they need to leave _now_.

“Sharon, if you are yourself now, we need to leave,” he says, gentle but firm.

“I-I don’t know. I can’t,” She tells him, and Bucky’s been there, he knows. It’s so hard to break through orders, but he believes in her. If she’s strong enough to put up with Steve, then she’s strong enough for this.

“You can do this, Shar-” He starts, but before he can finish she’s turned an amplified taser on him. Aside from the pain, all he can think to himself is he’s really sick of getting tased today.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, he immediately starts drifting to the side. He looks to his shoulder and his arm is completely missing this time. He’s really not used to having to adjust to the lack of weight anymore. His hand is cuffed to the table, and nothing here screams Hydra or AIM. His body aches like he’d crashed through something, and he has no idea how long he’s been out. At least he’s out of that adamantium shit.

Bucky tests the metal cuff, and it’s nothing he can’t break through with ease. However, he doesn’t want to take his chances. Whoever it is that has him will notice he’s awake soon. There’s an EMP that’s installed on his arm that looks like a good option right about now. As soon as he finds and reattaches the arm, it’ll reconnect with the electricity running within his body to power up, so this seems as good a time to use it as any.

He can move now, and as he looks around he notices openings everywhere. He memorizes the layout, before quickly standing up, accessing his belt with his right arm and setting off the EMP. The lights go out in an instant, and with that Bucky breaks the cuff with ease.

Even with just one arm, he’s probably one of the deadliest people in this building. Whoever has him has severely underestimated his talents due to their own incompetence. He breaks through the door and stalks into the hallway, ears on alert for any sort of movement. He hears people talking to his left and as his eyes adjust to the dark he quickly punches out the first, knocking the second over with a kick.

He ruffles through their things, finding SHIELD insignia on their persons and smirks to himself. Looks like it’s Stark’s unlucky day. It takes him three rooms of searching, but eventually he finds his arm laid out on a table and abandoned by whoever was supposed to be watching it. He picks it up, carefully reconnecting it. It slowly whirs to life, and he swings it around for calibration. Now, all he needs is to find a gun and finish Stark.

He knows Steve wouldn’t approve of this, he does. He’s thought about it many times since Steve has died but Stark is the reason Steve isn’t here to disapprove anymore. He paraded Steve about in power enhancers like a sitting duck, and he’s planning on using the shield as a political pawn right after Steve’s death. He’s moving locations as he sees a bright light, and avoids it for now. He can’t fight Stark without weapons.

He moves through the facility like he was made for it. Stealth has always been one of his strong suits, and he’s excelling at it now. He eventually finds the armory, unguarded and unlocked as the security went down with the EMP. He slings a machine gun over his back and takes two pistols, along with ammunition. Now, it’s just time to find Stark.

The lights go back up within a few minutes of his searching, but even with them on it’s easy enough to avoid the detachments of guards patrolling the hallways. SHIELD security is an absolute joke; it’s no wonder that Crossbones got out even with Sin setting everything up for him.

However, it doesn’t take him long to run into Stark at all. He hears him before he sees him, talking to someone over comms a floor beneath him. He’s overhead the hangar, but Bucky doesn’t care who or what he’s talking to. All he sees is red as he launches himself over the railing and at Stark.

He catches the suit by the neck, using his own momentum to throw Stark into the nearest wall. Sparks fly out from the wall, and Bucky catalogs that as something he can use later. Bucky flips neatly away from Stark after that, pulling out the machine gun from across his back and open firing. Stark holds his hand out in front of him, saying, “You can’t hurt me, kid,” but that isn’t the point. The wall behind him lights up and Bucky runs, jumps, and kicks Stark into it with both legs.

There’s sparks everywhere, and Stark’s suit lights up as it’s overloaded with power. Just like a battery, it’ll run itself out soon enough. All Bucky has to do now is stall for time. He launches himself at Stark once more, narrowly avoiding a repulsor blast. He gets behind the suit and uses his metal arm to roughly rip off the faceplate, narrowly dodging another blast as he does it. He kicks Stark’s legs out from under him, whips out a pistol and aims it at Stark’s face.

The only thing that stops Bucky from shooting Stark at that exact moment is the familiar voice that comes from behind him. “James, stand down,” Natalia asks, and it’s hard not to listen to her. He cocks his gun back, and seeing the resignation in Stark’s eyes is the only thing keeping him from pulling the trigger.

Stark tries to speak, but Natalia overrides him. “Stark, shut up for once in your life. Bucky, Steve wouldn’t want this, you know this.” She tells him, and Bucky is shaking with restraint.

“Steve’s dead because of him.” He says, and he remembers all of it. The whole scene, Steve falling before the crowd and Bucky being helpless to stop it.

She sighs, “It was an accident, James. No one deserves to die over an accident.”

“He’s using the shield as a political-”

“Only because Steve asked him to.” She interrupts, and Bucky looks up at her for the first time.

“What?” His heart is in his ears, because she can’t be serious.

“Steve left a letter with his final requests.” Stark says, not moving an inch. “Even I wouldn’t have the gall to pick a new Captain America without his say-so.”

Bucky stares Stark down, looking for any hints of lies on his face but he finds nothing. He takes a deep breath, and lifts the gun up before saying, “Show me.”

* * *

_Tony,_

_If this letter has found you, I’m afraid my time has come to pass. Our country, maybe_ _even the world, needs Captain America now more than ever. Even if it’s only as a symbol, I don’t want to leave the world hopeless. I leave it to you to appoint the next Cap. No matter what happens between us, I know I can count on you for that much._

_You should also know that Bucky is alive and out there. I can’t tell you the details, that’s up for him to decide. He’s hurting, badly. If you run into him, help him. That’s my final request._

_Your friend,  
Steve Rogers_

* * *

“When did you get this,” Bucky asks as he lays down the letter. He can’t believe that Steve would trust Stark like this, but then again he could. Steve always saw the best in everyone.

“About a week ago. I had the lawyer vetted and everything already.” Stark replies, before folding his arms. He’s still standing in the Iron Man armor, which seems to be up and running again already. Bucky’s not all that surprised that Stark has a fix for every situation.

“What are you doing about it?” Bucky asks, eyes narrowing. There’s option number one, where Stark hasn’t picked any candidates yet to be the new Captain America. Or, there’s option number two, where Stark’s already made a life-changing decision without consulting anyone important.

“We picked a candidate, and he’s already out of the gates. Good guy, worked under Steve for a bit. They were close, and he’s reliable.” Stark says, and Bucky can’t say he’s surprised. It’s not like Stark to sit on something. After a long pause, Stark takes a deep breath and looks like he winces for about half a second. “His name is Clint Barton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Clint POV!!! 
> 
> Title Insp: TrusT by half alive  
> Chapter Title Insp: still feel. by half alive


	2. What I Could Become

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Clint… how?” Tony finally says, slowly approaching. It’s not the artificial voice modulated through his suit this time. His faceplate is raised, and Clint can see the look of pure disbelief etched across his features. Tony’s eyes are darting back and forth, taking in every possible detail. “I don’t understand, how are you alive?”
> 
> “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says as he tries to shut out the memory he has of the explosion. He shudders and turns his focus back on the present, remembering he has a reason for doing all of this. “I’d much rather discuss Steve’s death. I want to know what’s happening, and how I can help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, huge shout out to Lottie for betaing and working through all of this with me. Additional shout outs to Miel and James for putting up with my constant requests to sprint with me so I can get this done. Y'all tolerate me in all of my endeavors and I appreciate you so much for it.

A newspaper drifts down the corner of the street, catching the eye of Clint Barton as he makes his way past. He notices the title and immediately averts his eyes. “CAPTAIN AMERICA: ASSASSINATED,” is splashed across the top of the page, and it really just goes to show that there’s no escaping the horrible reality he’s been resurrected into.

In the dark of the night, most people wouldn’t have noticed the paper, much less have been able to read the title. Clint Barton has never been like most people. He’s already seen several editions of the older article floating around, but it doesn’t get any easier to stomach. Steve dying in the middle of the street, powerless and unable to fight back? There’s no sense of justice in the world anymore.

Captain America was supposed to be the paragon of justice, the image of the true American ideal. He was a role model for many, and an icon for the world of what freedom truly looks like. Time and time again, Captain America proved himself to be the trusted moral compass of both superheroes and civilians across the globe. What’s more was that the man behind the suit actually upheld those ideals in his own everyday life. There was no difference between the suit and Steve; they were one and the same.

Initially, Clint had believed the worst of Steve. He’s ashamed to think he once thought of the other man as a hopped up know it all that didn’t deserve to lead. Clint had been brazenly against everything Steve said or did, no matter what it was. Despite that, Steve’s patience and guidance eventually won him over. Over the years, he’d become one of Clint’s most trusted mentors. He never truly acknowledged to himself just how important Steve had become to him, and with his death it’s too late to tell him.

The newest edition of the _Daily Bugle_ has pictures of the funeral plastered on it. Clint saw the entire scene this morning on a passing television. Tony had tried to say something, but in the end only got a few words out before walking away from the podium. Sam Wilson ended up stepping up to the plate, reminding them all of the many lives Steve had touched across the ages. He’d seen a large amount of people he’d known in the crowd, too, none of whom know he’s currently alive. He figures that for now it might be better that way.

He looks out across the shadows, at the ruins of the old Avengers Mansion. The nostalgia that creeps up on him surprises him. He’d never considered it could be destroyed until it was suddenly gone. He crosses the street, holding onto the feeling of belonging that the mansion once brought to him. He remembers the way the fight with Vision had ended up destroying the mansion, and how that series of events had led to his death. Nothing about that day makes sense to him even still, and he’s trying to accept that maybe it never will.

Scaling the walls here has never been difficult, not for him at least. Plus, most of the security measures have been abandoned since the site was destroyed. Clint pulls the bow off of his back and notches a timed flash arrow. He takes a deep breath to center himself, pulls back the string, and releases. He counts to sixty before notching another. He lights up the sky once more, however this time he hears a light whirring noise nearby. He sees a shadow appear in the sky, darting in and grabbing onto the arrow before it gives out.

A mechanical voice calls out to him, and he would recognize it anywhere. “I don’t know who you think you are-”

“I see you got my message, then,” Clint interrupts, smirk in place. It’s a gift, he thinks, to know just how to irritate Tony without pushing too far.

“Leave now, or I will be forced-”

“Oh, come off of it, Tony.” Clint interrupts again, doing his best not to roll his eyes. “You know exactly who I am, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Clint Barton is dead.” Tony responds, and Clint resists the urge to flinch at the ugly reminder.

“Guess I missed the memo,” he sasses back. “Hawkeye. Avengers Priority Code One-Nine-One. Username Trickshot, Password Purple man. Try me.” His voice is rough as he gets it out, but he knows that nothing short of cold hard evidence will convince Tony at this point. They’ve had too many scares of false identities. Clint holds his breath as he listens to the low thrum of machinery.

Here’s to hoping that dying hasn’t changed any of his DNA.

“Clint… how?” Tony finally says, slowly approaching. It’s not the artificial voice modulated through his suit this time. His faceplate is raised, and Clint can see the look of pure disbelief etched across his features. Tony’s eyes are darting back and forth, taking in every possible detail. “I don’t understand, how are you alive?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says as he tries to shut out the memory he has of the explosion. He shudders and turns his focus back on the present, remembering he has a reason for doing all of this. “I’d much rather discuss Steve’s death. I want to know what’s happening, and how I can help.”

“Yeah,” Tony hums. He lands the suit right in front of Clint, a look of guilt etched across his face. “About that,” he pauses, and before he has a chance to defend, Clint has a face full of a metal fist. He doesn’t have the opportunity to say anything else as the world goes black around him.

* * *

Pain is the first thing that registers when Clint wakes up again. Pain he can do, he’s used to that. He’s pretty acclimated to waking up in worse situations, as it is. At least he’s still wearing shoes. He’s a bit disoriented and confused as he sits up, taking in his surroundings. Fire shoots up his spine, and he ignores it as he tries to focus on the room around him.

“Whoa, there, tiger. Don’t move too fast.” He hears Stark say, and Clint would roll his eyes except for the fact that they’re still shut tight. The throbbing in his skull has jumped from a small ache to a loud pounding. Fuck, what did Tony even do to him?

“Be less thorough next time, would you?” He groans, trying his best to squint at Tony.

“Hopefully, there won’t be a next time. We’ve had… strange reports lately. Anyways, good news, you’re a real boy, Barton.” Stark tells him, and this time Clint does roll his eyes despite his head screaming at the movement.

He ignores it, because he does have a goal here. “Steve? What happened there? I saw the news, but it’s usually bullshit.” Clint starts with moving his toes and fingers, slowly working his way to bringing movement into his arms and calves. Small measures, and so far, so good.

“Ah, well, Steve was killed right under my nose. They got that part right.” He sounds casual about it, but Clint knows Tony. The guy’s eating himself up with guilt right about now, but pretending nothing’s bothering him. “Problem is, the autopsy shows multiple gunshots, not just the one from our confirmed shooter. We think there might be another active combatant on the loose, but we’re not sure who, yet.”

“What are we going to do about it, then?” Clint says opening his eyes all the way to raise an eyebrow at Tony. The pain is still there, but it’s slowly dulling out the more he moves.

“Oh, it’s ‘We’ already, Barton?” Tony snorts, but Clint gives him that. Tony contemplates something for a second, and Clint lets him think. Eventually, Tony seems to come to a decision, before saying, “Why don’t you follow me?”

Clint stands, reorienting himself fully. It’s luckily not as difficult as he was worried it would be. He nods at Tony, and then follows him out through the door. They don’t talk as they travel down the muted corridors, and the gray panel walls all kind of fade together. Eventually they go into a mostly empty room, save the spot where Steve’s shield is hovering under a spotlight.

“Is that?” Clint asks, in awe as he just stares.

Tony nods, “It is. There were two replicas made. One was given to the Smithsonian, and the other was buried with Rogers.” Stark tells him.

Clint takes a moment just to look and appreciate it. It’s as beautiful as ever. The gleam of it is especially bright with the light hitting it directly. He remembers Steve holding it during missions, tossing it around like it was an extension of himself. It settles something in him to see it still safe.

“Did you want to take it for a spin?” Tony offers him and Clint pauses for a moment to really think it over. This is Tony, not Steve. Steve always asked for things directly, or gave orders when he wanted things done. However, Tony’s not like that. He hides his intentions behind pretty words and you can’t always be sure of what he’s saying. This isn’t just a chance to goof off, Tony wants to test Clint. Probably to see if he’s good enough to be the next Cap.

He’s not sure if there are other hidden intentions in there that he’s unaware of, but he knows this much at least. He considers whether or not he’s really up for it, whether or not he’s truly worthy to carry the shield. He hesitates before answering, “Sure, Tony, why not.”

Tony leads Clint down more dark hallways, with doors sporadically placed and always closed. The shield feels heavy in Clint’s hands, but there’s a giddiness in him that he can’t ignore. Half of him doesn’t know what the hell he’s playing at pretending to be anything like Steve. The other half of him is just excited to see if he can measure up.

When they get outside, it’s very dark, and Clint realizes they’re on the helicarrier. There’s no lights around them to illuminate the space save the stars above and the city twinkling below. The wind whips around at his face a bit, and Clint sees Tony go to close the faceplate on the suit. Clint licks his finger, sticking it in the air to test it and he can feel Tony rolling his eyes. He didn’t really need to do that, but he felt like he needed to break the tension. “Show me what you can do, hotshot.” Tony goads him on, and Clint tries not to let the pressure build.

He tests the weight of the shield in his arms, once, and then twice for good measure. It’s not as heavy as he would have expected, and he’s delighted by the mechanics of it. He thinks quickly, about the angles he’ll need before he throws it out in the open air, watching as it circles perfectly around them and makes its way back. The Iron Man suit imitates a low whistling sound but fails, and Clint has to hold back a snort.

“You don’t have to look so smug, Tony.” Clint snarks as he catches the shield, because he knows the guy. Knows that under his armor, he’s smiling like a kid at Christmas.

“You know, when I think about it, maybe this is why you’ve been having such a hard time with your identity.” Tony starts as Clint throws the shield again. This time it bounces off two walls, before ricocheting back to him. The more he uses it, the easier it gets.

He doesn’t pause as he respond, deciding to play dumb to see if he can discover Tony’s motives here. There’s got to be something more at play, Clint just can’t figure out what it is. “What do you mean by that?” It sounds convincingly moronic, even to him. He catches the shield again, just after he replies and it almost feels as natural as breathing.

“Hawkeye, then Goliath, and then back to Hawkeye. Maybe those titles never truly fit you because you were meant for something greater.” Tony says, and Clint pauses to look up at the stars and consider. As nice as this all is, he’s not sure if Tony is right. Everything he’s ever touched has turned into ash, and it’s very likely that this could be another one. He doesn’t want to taint what’s left of Steve, but he also knows that he’s probably one of the few men SHIELD has that can accurately wield the shield.

“Hey, I’ve got a confirmed location on some action going down tonight,” Tony starts up again. “You could consider it part of the test run.”

He agrees, because as much as he’s unsure of himself, this feels right. Maybe Tony does have a point, for once. They head back down into the aircraft and through the seemingly endless corridors. Luckily, the armory is much closer than the lab was and they suit up quickly.

The suit Tony provides isn’t Steve’s old suit, thank god. It looks exactly the same, but Clint knows that Steve’s measurements were different. This suit fits like a glove, and it has that new suit smell. Still, it feels bizarre to look in the mirror and see so much of an echo of Steve in himself.

They head out, patrolling low and landing on a building underneath them. Clint spots what they’re here for and goes to move in, but Tony holds him back for a moment. There’s a criminal with some kind of fire control who’s surrounded by two teenagers decked out in costumed gear. One of them is holding a replica of the original shield designs. He’s dressed in the full red white and blue, but nothing like the Captain America garb that Clint’s currently wearing. The other is dressed down in purple, holding…. A bow? That’s definitely a quiver on her back.

“Who are the kids?” Clint asks, wondering just who in the world this girl is. Her form is phenomenal. Her aim might not be quite up to par with his, but it’s pretty damn close.

“The one with the shield goes by Patriot,” Tony muses, and Clint swears that he gets off on withholding the truth from people sometimes.

“Yeah, sure, but the one with the _bow_?” He presses, because that can’t be a coincidence. Archery isn’t something normal people pick up, and as he watches her shoot he notices she’s not using normal arrows. They’re trick arrows, just like he uses.

“Ah, you mean the new Hawkeye,” Tony replies. The mechanical voice may not have any tells in it but the way Tony turns his face away just a bit when he says it suggests he’s uncomfortable.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Clint says in both awe and horror. She couldn’t be more than eighteen at best, and he’s not entirely confident on that guess at this distance. She’s hardly more than a child standing in his shoes. She keeps up, though, and does it admirably. She’s effective and smart, and with a little more experience he knows she’s going to go a long way.

Clint watches as an arrow goes over the shoulder of the criminal before slowly arcing around to hit him in the back. Smoke emerges from the tip of the arrow, encasing the guy from head to toe. Patriot yells something that Clint can’t hear at this distance before he hustles over to the fire extinguisher, using the shield to knock off the side of it. The remaining flames go out, and all they’re left with is an overly drenched, confused man. Clint’s surprised at the level of teamwork these two kids are showing already.

“Time to go to work,” Tony says, slowly rising into the air and Clint’s gut drops out from under him.

“They already took care of the problem, Tony. Tony!” Clint calls after him, but from this distance there’s not a lot he can do without hurting his friend. Tony reads off their violations of the superhuman registration act, and something inside of Clint breaks even more. He knew about the act theoretically, but he didn’t think that Tony would straight up ignore a criminal to arrest two very young and talented kids.

Neither of the kids back down, Patriot immediately drops into a fighting pose while Hawkeye shoots an arrow at Tony’s suit. Tony catches it easily, but even from the distance he can tell that’s an EMP arrow. Clint winces, and quickly starts scaling down the side of the building. It won’t knock Tony out for long, and he needs to be down there to defend them.

He’s not quiet about his approach, though, and soon after he drops into the alley the girl immediately turns and gasps. Patriot whips around as well, face full of rage as he shouts “Who are you? You sure as hell aren’t the real Captain America.”

Clint grimaces and starts to think that maybe all of this was a big mistake. Trusting Tony always blows up in the end, why does he never learn? “You mean like how she’s not the real Hawkeye?” He shoots back, but he regrets it immediately. He can see how hard that hits her, how her stance wavers after he says it, but there’s no time to explain himself. He picks the shield off of his back, lifting it up and hoping to intimidate them a bit. “Hurry up and get out of here before Iron Man comes back.”

Patriot doesn’t hesitate before he turns around trying to clear the debris to the grate underneath. Hawkeye, though, her eyes stay on him. Her gaze is piercing, sharp, but her confidence seems to have returned. “I’m trying to honor a hero who died, not pretend to be him.” She says, and her voice is strong. He’s proud of her, honestly, she’s more than he’d ever dream someone could be. This isn’t really the time to be caught up in his emotions, though. “I was offered my name by Captain America himself. Can you say the same?”

His gaze doesn’t waver, but his realization that he’d taken the wrong path returns. He goes to speak, when he hears a mechanical whirring creeping up behind them.

“Good job on tracking them down,” Tony says, and this was honestly the last thing they needed.

Clint turns, raising up the shield to a full defensive position this time and takes a step forward. “Let them go, Iron Man.” It’s a risky bet, going toe to toe with Tony with as little practice as he has with the shield, but he’ll do it if it means keeping them safe.

“I don’t think you quite grasp the situation, Cap. What they’re doing is illegal. They’re the criminals here.” Tony reminds him, and Clint hates this. This whole registration, the divide in the community, all of it is such utter bullshit he realizes and it could have been avoided if Tony would only listen.

“You kids need to scram. Now.” He calls back behind him, and seconds later he hears the grate slam down. He’s grateful that they’ll be free to fight another day, but mostly he’s just angry he let himself be fooled by Tony’s pretty words. He’d been gone for most of the fight about the accords, sure, but that doesn’t excuse the way he trusted Tony without a doubt.

“This is a mistake, Clint,” Tony says, lifting his faceplate so they can speak face to face. He can see the determination on Tony’s face, but it doesn’t speak to Clint’s inner turmoil at all. Nothing about this is right.

“My only mistake was falling for the charade. This is fucked up, you ignored an actual crime to chase after some kids? This isn’t about freedom and justice, it’s about power and control.”

“This country needs Captain America fighting on the side of righteousness, Clint, can’t you see that?” Tony says, gesturing to the shield.

“They do need Captain America,” Clint responds, removing the shield from his arm and putting it back in it’s holster. “They need him to stand for the same things he always stood for. You can’t just pick and choose what Captain America agrees with to suit your needs. The man behind the suit needs to have unshakable ideals, even if you disagree with him. He stands for what is right, no matter the cost. I’m probably not that guy, but I am sure as hell not giving you back the shield to cherry pick another candidate.”

He’s honestly surprised at the level of guilt he sees at Tony’s face when he says it. Tony closes his eyes, takes a step back and takes a moment before speaking. “Look at you, ten minutes into the job and you’re already making speeches and everything,” he jests, but it’s weak at best. “Get out of here, Barton, before I come back to my senses and arrest you.” With that, Tony closes the faceplate and shoots back up towards the helicarrier. Clint assumes that he’ll have someone stop by to pick up the criminal later, but otherwise stares at the spot that Tony once stood.

He’s not sure where to go from here. The mansion was his home for so many years, and now it’s in tatters. He’s not completely up to date on current events. He’s not who is safe or where to take the shield for protection. He doesn’t feel right keeping it, not after talking to the kids. He wishes Bobbi was still alive, she always knew what to do. He hears a loud bang behind him and turns, to see the grate lifting back up.

“Did you just shame Iron Man into letting you go?” Patriot asks, bewildered. He looks okay, for the most part and doesn’t seem to be that shaken up. This must be his new normal, which is a sad thought. Hawkeye follows him up and looks at Clint, except instead of anger she has excitement on her face.

“I guess I did, huh?” Clint responds, trying to let the tension dissipate.

“I guess that’s a pretty typical Captain America move if I ever saw one. You still need a new suit, though,” Hawkeye says, poking at the star on his chest. “We need to get you back to base for that. Follow us.”

“Wait, just like that?” Patriot asks, and Clint has to agree.

“Didn’t you just yell at me?” Clint comments, surprised.

“He’s Clint Barton, Eli, that changes things,” she says, and Eli must be Patriot’s real name. Clint’s unsure what he did exactly to evoke that level of trust in a teenager. She soon turns back to Clint. “Let’s just say Steve told me a lot of stories about you over the years.”

He’s not sure that Steve didn’t play up events, but he’ll take it. “Take me to your leader,” He huffs, but it’s without any malice. It does get a small laugh out of her, though, so it’s worth it.

He follows them through the back alleys of New York, purposefully avoiding any major roads. It’s familiar in a way he didn’t realize he missed. The backstreets are mostly empty of people, only a few stragglers who don’t even look twice in their direction. It’s become pretty common for copycats to walk around, and at the moment he’s grateful for that.

It isn’t until they’re in front of Strange’s old place that he really wonders where they’re taking him. The place looks broken down, completely ruined from the outside. “Are you sure it’s not abandoned?” he asks, but Patriot just motions for Clint to keep following them. The inside isn’t much better. There’s splintered wood everywhere, and holes are punched out in the walls. Furniture is strewn about left and right, and there’s even a few burst pipes sticking out here and there. When they’re in the middle of the room, Hawkeye holds onto his shoulder and nods at Eli.

They say some nonsense sounding words together, and the room quickly shifts around them. Clint’s vision is spinning as an actual home seems to develop quickly, no hints of broken wood or random pipes. Clint’s eyebrows raise, “Magic hideout, nice.”

“What the hell is he supposed to be?” He hears from behind him. He turns to see Spider-Man tightly gripping the wall, judging by the finger indents. He always forgets how strong the kid really is.

“He’s the new Captain America,” Hawkeye says, and isn’t that a hell of an opener. “Iron Man gave him the shield.”

“Yeah, and then used it to tell Stark to fuck off.” Eli snorts.

“Patriot, watch your mouth. There’s children in here,” a voice calls from the hallways. Clint knows that voice. He turns to look and is greeted by the sight of Luke Cage, followed by Jessica Jones holding a small baby.

“Well, I missed a lot,” Clint says, staring at the baby.

“Who are you, again?” Luke says, and he’s not exactly hostile but not welcoming either.

“Oh,” Clint says, remembering that no one can see his face with the cowl. He pulls it off and he can feel every eye in the room on him. “Clint Barton, back from the grave and a little confused,” he jokes, but there’s a measure of truth in there.

No one says anything for a moment, before Luke lets out a low whistle. “Glad to have you back, man.”

Jessica gives Clint a long look over and says, “It’s good to see you, Clint.” He just can’t get over the little girl cradled in her arms.

“So, who is this guy?” Eli asks, and Clint holds back a snort. Leave it to kids to humble you.

“He was the old Hawkeye,” Hawkeye says, before whispering, “until he died, that is.” Spider-Man takes that as his cue to leave the room, not saying a word. The silence cuts into Clint as the disapproval coming from him was potent.

“I don’t think Steve would object, but he did have the suit trademarked.” Jessica says, and Clint diverts his attention back to them rather than the teenagers whispering behind him.

“Wasn’t really thinking too clearly about it, Tony got me good before he offered up the suit.” Clint tells her, and then part of him wonders if Tony was banking on that.

“I’ll help you out, let’s go upstairs,” she says, before handing the baby off to Luke. The _baby_. Clint just cannot seem to wrap his head around her. He follows her up the staircase, cowl in hand.

“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “You and Cage had a kid?”

“It makes sense that you wouldn’t know,” she laughs. “Danielle, yes. She’s about a year old now. I retired to take care of her, but now we’re fugitives because we refuse to register.” She shakes her head as she makes it to the top step, and looks back at Clint for a moment. He can see the pain behind her smiling expression; this must really be getting to her. She turns back around quickly, though. “At least we’re all still together.”

She takes a right down the hallway, and Clint hurries to keep up with her. “I can’t believe how out of hand this is getting. Tony tried arresting those kids tonight and ignored an actual crime just so he could get to them.”

“It’s definitely a mess. This is our room, though, we’ll get you up and running so we can try to fix it.” She says opening a nearby door. Clint’s surprised at the neatness of it, as craft rooms tend to get pretty messy. There’s fabric rolls tucked away in one corner and a large bench full of body armor ready to be measured and cut.

“You don’t have to stay,” Clint tells her. “Bobbi taught me how to do all of this when she got sick of how often I’d tear my suits.” The memory stings, but only a little. Mostly he remembers the love he felt for her. Back when she’d been alive she’d always taken care of him and taught him how to take care of himself. He owes so much of who he is to her, and he refuses to run away from her memory, even if it’s a little painful at times.

“Nonsense,” Jessica waves him off. “We’re in this together, I don’t mind helping.” She picks up a nearby black fabric and holds it against him. “We’re starting from scratch, right?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”He remembers what the girl said about honoring instead of copying, and has an idea of what to do.

Between the two of them, it takes a few hours of solid work to put a suit together. Measuring out the individual pieces and then melding fabric against body armor takes more time than most people might think it does. Even with both of them working on it, it’s still a rough process. It’s nearing close to dawn by the time they finish.

When he tries it on for the first time, Jessica claps for him instantly. “Much better,” she tells him, and an easy grin breaks out on his face. He’s proud of it, honestly. The head and shoulders of the suit are the typical navy blue, with the white star still on the front. There’s the red and white stripes below that, but otherwise the rest of the suit is black. Still a tribute to the old, but different enough to easily be noticeable. He shouldn’t be mistaken for Steve again.

Jessica leads him down the hallway to the library where Doctor Strange seems to be very involved with a book. Without looking up, he hears the man say, “I heard we had a new arrival last night. I guess that means you found the closure you were looking for?” He flips the page, before looking up with a single eyebrow raised.

“Not in the slightest,” Clint smirks, and Jessica frowns as she turns to him. Strange was the only person he’d seen after he was resurrected, looking for clues to the woman who killed him. Wanda Maximoff, once an old flame but an even older friend. He’d wanted answers then, and what he found was a happy, but powerless woman who remembered nothing. He’d chosen to come back instead of keep pushing for answers, guessing it was safer for everyone that way. “I did find a new purpose, though.”

Clint thinks it must be the right answer, because Strange puts down his book and actually looks at him over. “It’s nice to know someone reliable is taking up the mantle.” He says, as he picks his book back up. “We’ll need you out there.” He begins reading again, effectively dismissing them both.

As they make their way back towards the stairs, Jessica whispers at him, “What did he mean by that?” Clint just shrugs at her instead of answering. The actual story is too much of a headache to try to retell at this point. Jessica rolls her eyes, but luckily she lets it go.

As they reach the stairs, Clint notices another face he didn’t expect making his way up them. Logan, or Wolverine as he’s more commonly known is standing there with his mask off and a struck expression on his face. “Is everybody coming back from the dead now?” He says, before getting closer and sniffing at Clint. It’s a little strange, but then again Logan’s always been like that.

“I, uh,” Clint starts but he doesn’t get far.

“The suit looks good. Figured someone would step up. You got good morals, kid, stick to them.” Logan says, before patting Clint on the shoulder. He makes his way past them both, nodding at Jessica, before disappearing down the left hallway. Jessica looks like she’s trying not to laugh at him, and Clint just huffs.

“You looked like a deer in headlights,” she chuckles and he knows that’s probably the truth. He’s really not sure what to expect with Logan around, though. “Anyways, I’m heading to bed. Most of the rooms on the left wing are still open, pick one and it’s yours. The kitchen is back downstairs if you need to eat. Goodnight, Clint.” With that she crosses the hallway, and Clint is left at the top of the stairs.

He figures the kitchen is a smart move, he doesn’t exactly remember the last time he ate. When he gets to the bottom of the stairs, he’s surprised to see a small purple bundle folded up on one of the armchairs.

“Hawkeye?” He calls out, and he sees a small movement. She raises her head and her hair is an actual wreck.

“Clint?” She mumbles, rubbing her face. Upon closer inspection, she can’t be more than sixteen at most, and his heart goes out to her. She’s just a kid, but here she is stepping up where most adults won’t.

“Shouldn’t you be at home or getting ready for school?” He asks her, and she gives a half attempted shrug.

“Figured I’d check up on our new Cap before I head back.”

“Won’t your parents be worried?” She doesn’t look concerned in the slightest, and that’s a bit different for someone her age. He knows she can take care of herself, she’s proven it after last night, but he can’t help but worry.

She snorts at that. “No, no one will notice.” She pauses for a second, and the conversation hangs awkwardly in the air between them. He’s reminded of his own life, how very few people actually cared about him except his older brother, until even Barney left him behind. He’s not sure how to bridge the gap, but he doesn’t get the chance. She takes a breath before she continues, “I wanted to know if you were sticking with the shield, or if you wanted your name back.”

That surprises him. He didn’t think she of all people would be concerned about something like that when she’s doing good work. “You keep the name,” he tells her. “Even if I wasn’t doing this, I wouldn’t take that from you. Steve said you deserve it, so it’s yours.”

She seems to visibly relax at that and leans back into the couch. “Thanks, Clint.”

“No problem, Hawkeye.”

She snorts at him, “It’s Kate, you know. Kate Bishop. Anyways, I’m glad you took my advice. There’s a difference between honoring someone and copying them, after all.”

“Good advice from a teenager,” He says and she narrows her eyes. “Alright, alright, you were right.” He laughs, putting his hands up in a defensive gesture, because she does deserve to hear that much at least. She stood fast against a bad decision and took someone who was floundering under her wing without complaint. From her demeanor tonight alone he can already see what Steve saw in her. “At least go upstairs and find an empty room to sleep in, Kate.”

“No, I better be going,” she says, stretching as she stands. She picks up her quiver and bows off the floor and turns towards the door. “I’ll see you around, Cap.”

He gives her a small wave, not that she can see, and then he turns back towards the kitchen. As he enters, he notices the newspaper sitting on the end table. He turns it over to read the title, “AMERICA ASKS: WHAT NOW?”

“What now, indeed,” Clint murmurs to himself. He leaves the paper there, and rummages through the cabinet. His mind isn’t focused on food so much as it is the future. He’s not sure how to fix the rift in the superhero community, and he sure as hell doesn’t have all the answers. Now, at least, he has a team to fight with and a name to fight under. That, at least, brings him a measure of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after this things will be slowing down update wise. The entire story is outlined, so it will definitely get finished. However, it might take me a bit because the winterhawk bingo is starting soon and I plan on participating in that. 
> 
> Chapter title is a lyric from arrow by half alive, which I felt was fitting, because Clint, y'know?


End file.
